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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



COPYRIGHT OFFICE. 



No registration of title of this book 
as a preliminary to copyright protec- 
tion has been found. 



Forwarded to Order Division ^^^tjlJ^.LQ^J^l. 

(Date) 
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(Apr. 5, 1901—5,000.) 




Class _£ZT_2^2 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



3BoiPboo6 



OF 



jfamous Hmertcane 

CHILDREN 
OF 

HISTORY 



By ANNIE CHASE 

Author of "Flower Friends," etc. 



EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 

New York Chicago San Francisco 



Two Copies ««r««ved 

SEP \9 1904 
OaowleM Enwv 

CLASS XXe. No. 

COPY B 



o 



<0 



Copyrighted 
By EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1903 



' Not voice, but vow, 
Not harpstring, but hcartstring, 
Not loudness, but love, 
Sounds in the ear of God." 



This is the principle we have endeavored to inculcate in the 
following stories of our national heroes. The attempt has been 
made to show a little of the nation's progress and development 
through the loopholes of these lives and events. 

A.C. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Old Father Time ........... 7 

A Boy Who Never Gave Up . . . . . . . . . 11 

How a Boy's Dream Came True . . . . . . . . .15 

The Boy and the Boat ....... 21 

Making the Telegraph . . . . . . . . 25 

Eli Whitney . . . . . . . . . . . 29 

A Bright Newsboy . . . . . . . . . . -33 

The Child and the River .......... 39 

Memory Gems ........'... 43 

James Fenimore Cooper ......... 45 

John James Audubon . . . . . . . . . .49 

The Jack knife Story .......... 53 

A Letter to Auntie . . . . . . . . . . 57 

William Cullen Bryant ...,„.,,.. 65 

Nathaniel Hawthorne . . . . . . „ . . . 71 

i\bout Whittier 75 

A Boy's Thoughts 81 

A Kind- Hearted Boy 85 

A Jolly Little Fellow 91 

Studying Out of Doors .......... 97 

James Russell Lowell . . . . . . . . . .103 

Fighting Battles 109 

Little Philip Sheridan's First Ride 115 

The General and the Sparrow . . . . . . ■ . . 119 

A Vermont Boy . . . . . . . . . . .129 

One Christmas Eve . . . . . . . . . . . 123 

The Plymouth Children , . . . . . . . .132 

The First Fast Day 137 

The Colonial Children's First Real Fourth of July 140 

About the Flag 142 

More About the Flag 145 

The Star- Spangled Banner {Music) 151 

4 



CHILDREN OF HISTORY 



OLD FATHER TIME. 

Beth is a little girl who does not 
like to study. "I must do my busy 
work now," said Beth one day, "but 
oh, how warm the air is ! ' and she 
leaned her head on her arm for a little 
rest. 

Then a queer thing happened. Old 
Father Time walked right in at the 
open window. Beth knew him by his 
long gray locks. 



8 Children of History. 

"Why Father Time! where are your 
scythe and hour glass, and why are 
you not cutting down all, both great 
and small?' said Beth. You see she 
had been reading about the little Pil- 
grim children and their catechism. 

Father Time laughed and stroked 
his beard. " I do not cut people 
down," said he. "I carry them away 
as the sea bears the ships to other 
shores." 

Then he took a bundle out of his 
pocket. 

"What do you think this is?' said 
he. 



Childten of History. 9 

He unwound the wrappers and 
there was — an album full of pictures! 

"These are pictures of some chil- 
dren I am very proud of; ' said Father 
Time. "You may look at them and 
read about them for I must be on the 
move." "Yes, they are all true stories 
about real children," and away whisked 
the old gentleman out into the summer 
air. 




WASHINGTON ON HORSEBACK. 



A BOY WHO NEVER GAVE 

UP. 

"I must learn to write. I will not 
give it up. I will try, and try, and 
try," said the child, George Wash- 
ington. And he kept on trying till he 
could write a clear, bold hand. 

"I must go on an errand for my 
country; I will never give it up," said 
the young man, Washington. 

High mountains were in his path. 

Rivers blocked with ice, deep woods 



ii 



12 Children of History. 

where Indians were hiding were in his 
way. 

" I will keep straight on," said he. 
And he did keep on till the errand 
was done. 

"I must help to make my country 
free," said Washington. 

War was before him. "I will not 
give up while I live," said he, and he 
kept on trying until our country was 
free. 

" I must lead the people in the 
right way," said Washington, when the 
war was over. 

Hard work was before him. " I 



Children of History. 13 

will try to find out what is best for my 
country," said he; and he kept on 
trying till there were happy, peaceful 
times in our land. 




WASHINGTON'S HOME, MOUNT VERNON, VA. 




BENJAMIN FRANKUN. 



HOW A BOY'S DREAM 
CAME TRUE. 

Benjamin Franklin, a little Boston 
boy, loved the sea. He loved to 
watch the wide stretch of water under 
the changing sky. He loved to watch 
the clouds floating away into new, 
strange worlds. 

He loved the great ships that crept 
away under the clouds and the boats 
that rocked in the harbor, or tipped 
sideways on the sand when the tide 
was out. 

'S 



1 6 Children of History. 

"I wish I could go to sea," he said 
to himself, and often dreamed about it. 

He learned to manage a boat, and 
to take his boy playmates out on fish- 
ing trips. What sport it was to make 
the boat dart through the water and 
out to where the fish were always 
ready to bite! If a big fish was to be 
landed or an oar was lost or a squall 
came up, Benjamin always took the lead. 

When he grew older and became a 
printer's lad, he ran away in a sloop 
to New York City in search of work. 

« 

"You had better go to Philadelphia," 
said the New York people. 



Children of History. 17 

So to Philadelphia he went in a 
little sail boat. The winds tore the 
sails and drove the boat ashore. All 
night the boy had to lie in the hold of 
the boat while the waves beat on deck 
and trickled cold drops down upon 
him from the cracks overhead. 

After he had worked and studied 
and had flown his wonderful kite — 
which you know all about — and had 
become the great Dr. Franklin, he 
took another journey on the sea. 

It was in Revolutionary War times, 
and he was sent to Paris, to see if 
France would do anything to help us. 



1 8 Children of History. 

He was shown every honor, and 
when his work in Paris was done, he 
was sent down in the queen's own 
carriage to the place where he was to 
take ship for home. 

So this boy's wish came to pass, 
and the truth was better than any of 
his dreams. 



Here are a few of his "sayings." 

The sleeping fox catches poultry. 

Early to bed and early to rise, 
makes a man healthy, wealthy, and 
wise. 

For want of a nail the shoe was lost; 



Children of History. 19 

for want of a shoe the horse was lost; 
and for want of a horse the rider was 
lost. 

Many a little makes a mickle. 

There are no gains without pains. 

Lost time is never found again. 

It is folly for the frog to swell in 
order to equal the ox. 

A fool and his money are soon 
parted. 

If you would be wealthy think of 
saving as well as of getting. 




FULTON, 



THE BOY AND THE BOAT. 

Robert Fulton and his mates used 
to £0 down the river to fish. 

They owned an old, flat-bottomed 
boat, clumsy and heavy as a great log. 
What hard work it was to push it 
along with poles! The boys' arms and 
backs used to ache so with "taking 
turns' at the poles that even a "bite' 
by a fish could not make them forget it. 

Robert thought about this boat 
a great deal ; was there not some way 
to move it more easily? 



21 



2 2 Children of History. 

One day he found some old boards 
and poles which he made into paddles. 
These looked like wheels and turned 
with a crank. 

He fastened these into the old boat 
and ran for one of the boys to try 
with him the new paddles. 

Would the boat move? 

The two boys almost held their 
breath. 

Creak! splash! went the paddles. 

Hurrah! hurrah! away sped the old 
boat down the stream. 

It was a proud and happy time for 
Robert; his heart beat as joyously 



Children of History. 2 3 

as it did years after when his steam 
boat, his own invention, went puffing 
down the Hudson before a staring 
crowd. 





S. F. B. MORSE. 



MAKING THE TELEGRAPH. 

Once when Samuel Morse, a Mas- 
sachusetts boy, was wr.ting to his 
mother, three thousand miles away, he 
said, " I wish I could hear from you 
in an instant. We must wait four 
lone weeks before we can hear from 



each 



hotb 



For years and years he studied and 
worked to find out a way to send 
messages instantly. 

"That man is crazy," said one of 

J 7 

his neighbors. "He is foolish," said 



25 Children of History. 

another. "Why does he not stick to 
his painting now that he has learned 
how to do it?' said a third. 

But he kept on trying to make a 
telegraph. 

His clothes were poor, he almost 
starved, he suffered with cold until his 
heart was almost broken. 

" I cannot give up making a tele- 
graph. I know I can make it," said 
he. 

At last some one loaned him money 
to finish the machine. 

It was tried. 

Hurrah! the words dotted off at 



Children of History. 27 

one end of the wire were dotted off at 
the other end, too. 

Then people forgot how they had 
laughed at this same man. 

They cheered, they rang bells, they 
hired bands to play in the street, they 
formed in line with the children 
following on behind. 

They went with the great man from 
place to place to his home, which 
was trimmed with flowers and ever- 
green, till it looked like a great garden. 

"He has done a great thing for his 
country," said the very people who 
had once mocked him. 




ELI WHITNEY 



ELI WHITNEY. 

Eli Whitney was a boy who lived 
in Revolutionary times. 

"We must have more nails," said 
the colonists; "we will pay a high 
price for them." 

"Father," said Eli one day, "if you 
will buy me a few tools, I know I can 
make nails." 

His father laughed, but he 
remembered a violin the boy had just 
made with no help from any one, so 



he bought the tools, 



29 



30 Children of History. 

Eli knew just how to go to work, for 
he had thought it all out weeks before. 

The nails were made and sold. 

When the war was over and nails 
were not so much needed, this boy 
made bonnet pins. 

In his spare time he studied and read. 

"Now I have made so much money 
that I can go to college," he said ; and 
he went. There he worked as hard as 
he did at making nails. He became a 
great and learned man. 

He thought out and made a 
machine for picking cotton from the 
seed. 




COTTON PLANT. 




EDISON. 



A BRIGHT NEWSBOY. 

"Papers! Morning papers! 

"Peanuts, five a bag! ■ 

"Apples! Apples! 

"All the new songs!' 

"What a bright newsboy!" "What 
a cheery voice!' said the passengers, 
smiling at the little merchant. 

So hard did this bov work that he 
soon had four other boys under 
him selling peanuts and prize candy. 

He read in odd moments. He 
exchanged some of his papers for jars 

33 



34 Children of History. 

and chemical instruments. He hired 
or borrowed an old baggage car in 
which to place them. 

"What a show they make!' said he, 
looking at them with shining eyes 
when they were set in rows along the 
old car. 

"Hurrah! now I can try pouring 
one liquid into another. I can see if 
they will do just as the books say they 
will." 

" But suppose some one steals the 
jars of precious liquid?' 

Thomas, for that was the boy's 
name, thought a moment. "I have it," 



Children of History. 35 

said he to himself. " I will mark 
them all Poison." 

Of course no one dared touch the 
jars after this, and Thomas had a 
grand time with them. 

But he needed more money. So he 
bought some old type of a printer in 
Detroit, and started a paper in the old 
baggage car. 

Everything went well until one day 
a jar upset and set the car on fire. 

The conductor rushed in, threw the 
type and jars out of the window and 
gave Thomas a whipping. 

The boy missed his treasures. It 



36 Children of History. 

was like a pain to wake up in the 
morning only to find them gone. 

He was thinking about them one 
day and wondering what he should do 
next, when he caught sight of a little 
golden-haired girl on the track just 
ahead. 

Thomas rushed out, caught her up 
and dragged her out of harm's way 
just as the train whizzed by. 

As a reward, the little girl's father 
offered to teach him how to use the 
telegraph. 

Thomas could hardly believe in his 
good luck. He had often made queer 



Children of History. 37 

telegraph machines himself out of 
stove pipe, wire magnets and old rags, 
and sent messages on them to his boy 
Iriends in the next house. 

Now he was to learn to send 
messages on a real machine. 

After he had learned to write with 
the telegraph, he began to think how 
the instrument could be made better. 

He is now the great man, Thomas 
A. Edison, who has made the electric 
light and the phonograph. 

He is always "thinking out' some 
wonderful machine. 




IRVING. 



THE CHILD AND THE RIVER. 

A river once spoke to a child's soul 
No one ever knew just what the river 
whispered to him. 

" Now you and I know a secret," 
gurgled the river, running away with a 
laugh. 

All day long this river made pic- 
tures for the child: pictures with blue 
hills in them; pictures with high 
mountains peeping at their own faces 
in the water; pictures with sunny 
paths winding down to the water, 

39 



4° Children of History. 

where the cattle came to drink; pic- 
tures with shady spots under green 
boughs; pictures with white sails 
skimming about on the blue water, 
with the blue sky over all. 

The older the child grew the more the 
river taught him and the more he loved 
to hear the echoes roll along its banks. 

The boy grew to be a man and 
tried to become a lawyer. But pictures 
and echoes came between him and the 
dull work. 

He went to far away lands. 

There he saw the most beautiful 
lakes and rivers and mountains. 



Children of History. 41 

He went among queens and lords 
and ladies. 

"Oh, for one look at my own river," 
thought he; "it is more beautiful than 
crowns or jewels or these foreign 
streams." 

He came home and tried to be a 
merchant, but failed. 

" I must write or starve," said he. 

Then he wrote some of the thoughts 
the river had taught him. 

Every one loved to read these 
thoughts. 

"Since these things make men 
happier I will build me a home where 



4 2 Children of History. 

I can spend all my time writing of 
them,'' said he to himself. 

So it came about that a pretty home 
pushed its peaks and gables up among 
the pines on the banks of the River 
Hudson. 

" I will stay always by the river," 
said he, "for it makes me better and 
happier and wiser every day." 

At last the writer's work was done. 

"What a picture the river makes 
with the sunset on it," he said, and 
soon after fell asleep. 



Children of History, 

MEMORY GEMS. 

Do thy duty, that is best, 
Leave unto the Lord the rest 



Whene'er a task is set for you 
Don't idly sit and view it,— 



Nor be content to wish it done; 
Begin at once and do it. 



Beautiful hands are those that do 
Work that is earnest, brave and true, 
Moment by moment, the long day 
through. 




COOFtR. 



JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 

A STORY TELLER AMONG THE HILLS. 

About the time that Washington 
was being made President, a little boy 
was born up among the hills of New 
York. 

Woods were all about him, woods so 
deep that it was always twilight under 
the thick boughs; woods so overgrown 
with underbrush that it was hard to 
find a path through them; woods full 
of beavers and minks, wolves and deer, 
and even wildcats and bears. 



45 



46 Children of History. 

There was a lake, too, fringed with 
oaks, beeches and pines, and peopled 
with ducks and loons. 

This was just the spot for a story 
teller to grow up in, and a story teller 

this boy (James Fenimore Cooper) 
became. 

He wrote stories of the Rev-o-lu- 
tion, of the Indians and of the Colo- 
nists, stories of the dark forests and 
lonely rivers, of the deep sea and the 
brave American sailors. 




AUDUBON. 



JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. 

AMONG THE BIRDS. 

The trees with low hanging boughs, 
the leaves with the sunbeams shining 
through them, the birds, the bees, the 
locusts' song, were the first sights and 
sounds which this boy noticed as he 
hung in his cradle out of doors. 

When he could run about and play 
he would stay for hours under some 
tree watching the birds and their 
pretty ways. 

Sometimes, when he was yet very 



49 



50 Children of History. 

young, he dreamed of becoming a 
soldier. 

Then a mocking bird would let fall 
a few sweet notes. 

"What do I care for swords or 
guns or noise or battle while there are 
birds? I will stay with them," said 
he. 

And he did; scarcely a day passed 
that he did not draw or write about 
some one of them. 

Today his books and pictures of 
birds are known and read the world 
over. 




DANIEL WEBSTER 



THE JACK-KNIFE STORY. 

Little Daniel Webster and his 
schoolmates were studying one morning 
as hard as they could when the master 
held up a beautiful new jack-knife. 

Every boy looked up from his 
spelling book and said, "Oh!' under 
his breath. 

"I will give this," said the master, 

"to the boy who will learn and recite 

to me the greatest number of verses 

from the Bible by Monday morning." 
Monday morning came. 

One boy recited twelve, another 



53 



54 Children of History. 

twenty-four verses, with eyes fixed on 
the shining jack-knife. 

It was Daniel's turn at last. He 
recited verse after verse. 

" Forty," counted the other boys 
with long faces, "fifty! sixty! seventy! 
seventy-five!' 

No one ever knew just how many 
verses Daniel had learned for the 
master could spend no more time to 
hear them. 

"You have won the knife, Daniel," 
said the master, while all the school 
clapped as loudly as in after years 
people cheered his great speeches. 



\ 




EMERSON. 



A LETTER TO AUNTIE. 

Shut your eyes and imagine Boston 

a place of gardens and orchards and 
sunny hills. 

Imagine a gambrel-roofed wooden 
house in the midst of an orchard and 
garden. 

In this house, on the 25th of May, 
1 803, Ralph Waldo Emerson was born. 

The spot where the house stood was 
a fine one for play; there were sheds 
and woodhouses, and open ground for 

playing ball and other games. 

57 



58 Children of History. 

There was even a pond where a boy 
might try his first skates; and near by 
were the sea and the wharves. 

I am afraid little Ralph Waldo was 
not allowed to play very often, for 
he never owned a sled and would 
stand inside his own gate, wistfully 
watching "the rude boys in the street' 
and wondering what they were like. 

He was put to his studies when he 
was only three years old and seemed 
to live all by himself in a world of 
thoughts. 

Here is a letter which he wrote when 
he was only ten years old and which 



Children of History. 59 

I will let you read because it opens 
a little window on his childhood. 

Boston, April 16, i 8 1 3. 
Dear Aunt: — 

I am much obliged to 
you for your kind letter. I mean now 
to give you an account of what I com- 
monly do in one day. 

Friday, 9th, I choose for the day 
of telling what I did. In the morning 
I rose, as I commonly do, about five 
minutes before six. 

I then helped William in making 
the fire, after which I set the table for 
Prayers. 



60 Children of History. 

I then called mamma about quarter 
after six. 

We spell as we did before you went 
away . . . after which we eat our 

breakfast; then I have from quarter 
after seven till eight to play or read. 

I think I am rather inclined to the 
former. 

I then go to school, where I hope 
I can say I study more than I did a 
little while ago. 

I am in another book called Vergil. 

• • • 

After this school (The Latin 
School) I go to Mr. Webb's private 



Children of History. 61 

school, where I write and cipher. I go 
to this place at eleven and stay till one 
o'clock. After this, when I come 
home I eat my dinner, and at two 
I (go again) to the Latin 
School. 

After I come home I do mamma 
her little errands; . . . then I 
bring in my wood for the breakfast 
room. 

I then have time to play and eat my 
supper. 

After that we say our hymns and 
chapters and then take our turns in 
reading Rollins 



62 Children of History. 

I go (to bed) at a little after eight 
and retire to my private devotions, 
and then close my eyes in sleep. 
Your most dutiful nephew, 

R. Waldo Emerson. 
Poor little fellow! must they not 
have been very sleepy, tired eyes? 

He grew to be a great man, a poet, 
an essayist and a philosopher. 




EMERSON HOUSE, CONCORD, MASS. 




BRYANT. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

This boy's brother and himself used 

to read the Iliad together. 

How grand were the old Greek 

heroes! So much did the boys think 
of the story that they often dreamed of 

it at night. 

To them the clouds looked like 
armor clad knights in chariots, driving 
down the air. To them the rushing 
wind sounded like an oncoming host 

65 



66 Children of History. 

of Greeks, and the rattling hail like 
the clashing of their swords. 

"Let us play warrior;' said William 
one day when the boys were in the barn. 

So every bit of board, every old 
box and barrel they could find was 
made into helmet or shield, spear or 
sword; even hats were made from 
the lighter pieces and trimmed with 
flaunting plumes. 

Dressed in these the boys fought 
again the battles of the heroes of olden 
time. 

But William liked the lines and 
beautiful words of the poet even better 



Children of History. 67 

than he did the heroes and their 
brave deeds. He dreamed of them 
day and night. 

"Please, God, make me a poet," he 
prayed every night before he fell 
asleep. 

This boy lived in the days of corn- 
huskings and apple-bees, when there 
were wide stretches of field and forest. 

Better than anything else he loved 
the sunset or sunrise, the shifting 
seasons or the changing lights and 
shadows on the fields and hills. 

His prayer was answered. He 
became a poet. 



68 Children of History. 

Few could write more beautifully 
than he of the birds or the flowers. 

Here is a pretty verse he wrote 
about a bobohnk and his family: — 

" Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 

Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain side or mead, 
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name: 
Bob-o'-link, Bob-o'link, 
Spink, spank, spink : 
Snug and safe in that nest of ours 
Hidden among the summer flowers, 
Chee, chee, chee." 




'£? K 3& 



HAWTHORNE 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne lived in 
Salem, in the days when many trading 
vessels went back and forth between 
our country and Europe. 

His father was captain of one of 
these ships which sailed from Salem. 

Nathaniel was a bright eyed, hand- 
some little fellow, fond of watching the 
ships and shipping in the harbor, or 
of building air castles for himself while 
he walked, or lay under a tree in the 

71 



72 Children of History. 

garden, and read Grandma's "Pil- 
grims' Progress." 

He loved his kitty so much that 
while he was keeping quiet with a 
lame foot he knit her a pair of stock- 
ings. 

He was a lively boy for all this, 
and once soundly whipped a saucy 
schoolmate. 

Here is a letter which he wrote to 
his mother. 
Dear Mother: — 

I do not want to be a doctor 
and live by men's diseases, nor a 
minister and live by their sins, nor a 



Children of History. 73 

lawyer and live by their quarrels, so I 
don't see that there is anything left for 
me to do but to become an author. 
How would you like some day to 
see a whole shelf full of books with 
"Hawthorne's Works' printed on their 
backs? 




HAWTHORNE HOUSE, SALEM, MASS. 



"- ■ "■ ' ■■■-.■-■■■'.■ — — ' ■" > -:- ■■■ ::-^ 




WHITHER 



ABOUT WHITTIER. 

Whittier's first home was the nicest 
place in the world in which to be a 
boy. 

There were hills and valleys, there 
were woods and a blue lake, there 
was a gay garden with a pretty little 
brook at one end. 

There were apples and cherries, 
too, sheep and cows, horses and oxen, 
hens and chickens, turkeys and ducks; 
there was a wide sunny barn in which 
to romp and climb. 

75 



j6 Children of History. 

On Sundays, if there was not room 
in the great chaise to take all the 
family to church, John and his brother 
were left to climb about the hills, 
gather flowers and listen to God's 
voice in the pines. 

One morning John was driving 
the cattle up the dewy lane. He let 
down the bars with a clatter. 

"Why am I not like the cattle?' 
thought he. "I must do something in 
the world. God has made me for 
something." 

He soon found his work. 

When he became an old man and 



Children oj History. J J 

had written poems that made the 
world brighter for every one, he 
bought a new home which he 
named Oak Knoll. 

There were wide sunny windows in 
this home; there were great oaks near 
the door — and the pets! 

There was a mocking bird who 
could cry Whit-ti-er, Whit-ti-er; there 
Was a squirrel who loved to dive into 
the poet's pockets for nuts and sit on 
the poet's coat collar to crack and eat 
them. 

There was a saucy parrot. There 
was Robin Adair, a big, sober shep- 



yS Children of History. 

herd dog; there was Jack-a-napes, a 
little, frisky dog; and there were some 
little girls who loved to sit on the 
poet's knee or make doll houses or 
play horse with him. 

When the poet's life work was done 
and he lay down to rest, the children 
gathered flowers to lay all about him, 
and little barefoot boys, like the one he 
wrote about, came in to look upon his 
face. 




LONGFELLOW 



A BOY'S THOUGHTS. 

" Little child, what are you thinking 
of?" 

"I am thinking of the robin and the 
orchard tree, of the cooing doves on the 
barn roof and the shadows in the wood. 

"Of the sea as it beats against the 
rocks. Of the islands out there in the 
sea. Do the sea fairies play there? 
Are the stars I saw falling lying there 
on the green? 

"Yesterday the rainbow dipped one 
end among those trees." 

81 



82 Children of History. 

This child liked to fly a kite, throw 
a ball, romp in the wood or swim in 
the creek on sunny days. 

But one sad day he shot a robin. 

"Oh, Robin, Robin! Will you 
never sing again?' cried the child. 

"Wake little Robin; see my tears 
fall on your breast. Your poor bleed- 
ing head is against my cheek. 

" Do wake, little Robin and I will 
never harm you again." 

But Robin's life could not come 
back. 

"I will never shoot another bird," 
sobbed the child, and he never did. 



Children of History. 83 

This tender-hearted child grew to 
be a tender-hearted man. Every one 
loved him and read his poems. 

One birthday, when the poet's hair 
was gray, he heard the children com- 
ing up his stairs, and what do you 
think they had brought for him? 

A beautiful chair made from the 
wood of a chestnut tree about which 
he had once written. 




LINCOLN'S EARLY HOME 



Copyrighted by L. Prang & Co. 



A KIND-HEARTED BOY. 

Note: While Abraham Lincoln was grow- 
ing up great things came to pass in our 
country. A canal was made between the Hud- 
son river and the Great Lakes; while he was 
splitting rails to fence his father's farm people 
in Massachusetts were laying the railway 
between Boston and Lowell (the first one to be 
finished). Southern people invented a machine 
for cleaning cotton, and some wise men made 
machines for spinning and weaving cloth. 

Abraham Lincoln was born in 
Kentucky and lived in a rude cabin 

One November day when the winds 
were rattling down the nuts and acorns 
and chasing the dead leaves, Abra- 

85 



86 Children of History. 

ham's father took his family to 
Indiana. 

In those days Indiana was a wild 
wood. 

The new home was only a sort of 
log camp, with one side open to the 
weather, but it was near a cool bub- 
bling spring shaded by forest trees. 

Here little Abraham learned from 
his mother how to write and read and 
later went to school in a rough log 
school-house. 

When he was a lad he loved to 
make speeches; he would stand on the 
stump of some fallen tree and speak, 



Children of History. 87 

while his schoolmates clapped their 
hands and shouted. 

"He can talk like a minister," said 
one. 

"Throw this at him!' said another, 
holding up a turtle by the tail. 

The poor turtle fell at Abraham's 
feet, crushed and in pain. 

"Shame on you, cowards, to hurt 
this poor creature!' cried Lincoln, his 
eyes blazing with anger and filling 
with tears. 

"We will take him back to the 
stream and take care of him," said the 
boys, ashamed of the cruel trick. 



88 Children of History. 

Once when Abraham was a young 
man he had to drive a cart and cattle 
across an icy stream; in the hurry a 
little dog was left behind. 

" Poor little thing, I cannot bear to 
see it in distress, I will bring it," said 
Abraham, and he waded barefoot 
through the cold water to where doggie 
was "crying' with all her might. 

And doggie nestled down in the 
kind arms that carried her so tenderly, 
looking up now and then with a look 
which said as plainly as could be, " I 
wish you all honor and success, young 
man." 




HOLMES 



A JOLLY LITTLE FELLOW. 

In Cambridge, Massachusetts, there 
is a queer old almanac for 1809. 

In this almanac, opposite the date 
Aug. 29th, is written "Son born." 

This son was Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, one of the brightest, merriest 
boys that ever dwelt in a minister's 
home. 

He and his brother John romped in 
the fields or under the great elms in 
front of their home ; on rainy days they 
frolicked in the library or read any 

91 



92 Children of History. 

of the books they chose or listened to 

i 

the sober ministers who often came to 
talk with their father. 

They loved to work out in the 
garden among the pinks and daffodils 
and lilacs, or hoe among the radishes 
and beets and watch their growth. 

Oliver was a timid little fellow, 
afraid to go to bed in the dark, afraid 
of the old chairs piled up in the dark 
store-room which looked, he said, as 
though they had huddled together and 
climbed up on each others' backs 
because they were scared; he was 
afraid of the ships with their tall 



Children of History. 93 

masts; and the glovemaker's sign! — he 
could never look at the great hand 
without a shudder. There it hung, 
he says, "ready to catch up a little 
boy' and never let him go home 
again. 

But no strange or wonderful thing 
happened to Oliver. 

He was just a happy, healthy, 
sunny-hearted little boy who grew to 
be a happy, healthy, sunny-hearted 
man. 

He became a poet, a novelist and 
one of the cheeriest doctors that ever 
set foot in a sick room, whose smiles 



94 Children of History. 

and droll sayings did as much good as 
his medicine. 

A servant girl once said to him, "I 
fear you must climb two flights of 
stairs to reach the sick room; do you 
mind it?" 

"No! No! ha, ha, ha!" laughed the 
good natured doctor, "I shall have to 
climb more than that before I can 
reach the angels." 




THOREAU 



STUDYING OUT OF DOORS. 

The river! What charms it had 
for the Thoreau children! 

There were the flowers and birds on 
its mossy banks; there were the boats, 
just big enough for two little boys to 
paddle about in, resting lazily on the 
blue water. 

There were wonderful colors and 
hues in the water and sky when the 
sun was setting. There were large 
boats, too, which seemed to the children 
to come from some far off fairy land, 

97 



98 Children of History. 

only to float away into the mist of 
another. 

Indians, too, sometimes camped on 
the river banks, Indians who cooked 
and ate and wove baskets after their 
own strange fashion, but who were never 
known to harm little boys or girls. 

So much did Henry Thoreau love 
this river that he could not be coaxed 
to leave it for long at a time. 

When he became a man he loved it, 
and all the living growing things 
in and about it, as well as ever. 

He knew every bird's note, every 
flower's time for blossoming, every 



•* * 



Children of History. 99 

locust that " zipped' in the long grass. 
Turtles, frogs and even snakes were 
not afraid of him. 

For long hours he would sit without 
moving on some stone or stump in the 
field or forest to study the habits of 
some little creature at his feet. People 
said, " Either the bees tell him secrets 
or he tells the bees." 

He built him a little hut in the 
woods by Walden Lake where he could 
study and write about these things all 
he liked. 

It is like a walk in the woods to 
read one of his books. 

L.tfC. 



IOO Children of History. 

When a boy he was a proud little 
fellow, and the soul of honor. 

Some one lost a pocket knife. 

"Have you stolen it, Henry?' 

" I did not take it," said Henry. 

" You were near it when I left it. ' 

"I did not take it," said Henry. 

"Do you know who did take it?' 

"I did not take it," said Henry, 
and that was all he would say about it. 

By and by the thief was found out. 

"Why did you not tell me you saw 
him take it?' said the first boy. 

"I did not take it," said Henry 
proudly. 




LOWELL 



JAMES RUSSEL LOWELL. 

There was a nook in the home at 
Elmwood which of all the nooks at the 
farm seemed the best to this boy. 

It was a wide, sunny field at the 
back of the house. Willows, poplars, 
maples and pines grew all around it; 
the dearest birds flew about and sang 
in it; the gayest flowers bloomed in it 

What fun it was to lie at full length 
there in the tall grasses and watch the 
shadows chase the sunbeams or the 

sunbeams the shadows — which it was, 

103 



104 Children of History. 

the boy could never quite make up his 
mind. 

There were so many joys to be had 
in this nook! 

Such music! such pictures! such 
fairy stories! told by the brook, and 
the birds, and the flowers, and the sky 
together that he never wearied of the 
spot not even when he had become 
a man. 

The birds and butterflies seemed to 
think the boy one of their playmates 
for he never startled them. 

One day there was a great fluttering 
in a nest on a high limb. 



Children of History. 105 

"Pip! pip!' cried a mother robin. 

What can be the matter? 

In less time than it takes to read 
about it their good friend had mounted 
to a ladder and peeped into the nest. 

There were two baby birds grown 
old enough to fly, tied fast by a bit of 
cord which had been woven into the 
sides of the nest. 

"Pip! pip!' cried the mother bird. 

"Peep! peep!' wailed the babies. 

"There you are!' cried their friend 
when he had cut the cruel cord, and 
away the babies flew on their first 
journey. 



106 Children of History. 

"Pip, pip, thank you, thank you," 
cried the happy Mamma Robin. 

I know you will guess that such a 
boy grew to be a great poet with a 
heart as sunny as the field he once 
loved to play in. 




GRANT 



FIGHTING BATTLES. 

"I must break all this bark into tiny 
bits ! what a hard task for a boy ! but I 
will fight through it!' said Ulysses 
Grant, working away in his father's 
tannery. 

By and by he was sent to West 
Point that he might learn to be a 
soldier. 

How the boys laughed at his coat! 

"Who is your tailor?' cried they, for 
his clothing was all home made. 

" I must fight through it," said 

109 



1 1 o Children of History. 

young Grant, and he did; not with 
blows and hard words, but with 
courage and good nature. 

"No one can quarrel with Grant," 
said the boys; he is as good natured 
as the sun itself." 

After the war with Mexico, Grant 
was very poor. 

"I must fight poverty now," said he. 

He bound wheat, he plowed, he 
gathered corn side by side with the 
negroes. He built a rude log house 
and moved his family into it. 

Dark days came to our country; 
the North and the South took up 



Children of History. 1 1 1 

arms against each other. The North 
said the new states must be free states; 
that no slaves should be sold in them. 

The South said they must not be 
free. 

Each believed itself to be rio-ht and 
there were true brave hearts in both 
North and South. 

Lincoln, sad and anxious, sat in the 
president's chair. 

I need a firm, brave general for the 
North," said he. 

By and by Grant was brought in. 
The two shook hands. "Thank God, 
I have a general at last," said Lincoln. 



112 Children of History. 

Many cruel battles were before this 
new general. 

The North grumbled because he 
did not work more rapidly. 

The South cried out at his cruelty, 
but he did what he believed to be right. 

"I will fight it out on this line if it 
takes all summer," said he, shutting his 
lips firmly. 

War once over, Grant was praised 
and feasted and petted ; then he was 
made president. 

Now people found fault with him 
until his heart was almost broken, but 
he did what he believed to be right. 



Children of History. 1 1 3 

When he fought with disease and 
death he was the same brave, patient 
hero of many battles. Grant was like 
a firm rock unmoved by any storm. 

Did you ever see such a rock in 
some bleak spot sheltering little violets 
from the wind? Grant dearly loved 
his own little violets. 

His soldiers saw him one day, 
shedding tears over a print of his 
baby's hand in a letter from home. 




GEN. PHILIP H. SHERIDAN 



114 



LITTLE PHILIP SHERIDAN'S 
FIRST RIDE. 

Little five-year-old Phil Sheridan 
was playing near his home one day 
when two older boys came by. 

"How would you like a ride?' said 
they. 

"Very much," said Phil, peeping 
through the fence at a horse which 
was grazing on the hillside. 

"Come on then," said the boys. 

Then they caught Phil up and sat 

him on the horse's back. 

115 



u6 Children of History. 

With a toss and a snort the horse 
was off; he bounded over fences, he 
ran down the street, up hill, down dale, 
away, away in such a cloud of dust that 
the boys could scarcely see him. 

"Whoa! whoa!' they shouted with 
pale faces, but the horse took no heed; 
he was far beyond the reach of their 
voices though they ran at their best 
speed. 

"The little fellow will be killed!" 
shrieked the boys. "What shall we 
do?" 

And little Phil? He neither cried 
for fear, nor even called to the horse to 



Children of History. 117 

stop; he just held on with his knees 
and hands and thought it all fine sport. 

The horse kept on until he came to 
a stable which he knew, when he trotted 
up to the bin and began to eat. 

Kind people in the house took care 
of the brave little rider and sent him 
safely home next day. 




GEN. ROBERT E. LEE 



118 



THE GENERAL AND THE 
SPARROW. 

In Virginia, on a bluff which looks 
down upon the Potomac River, stands 
a fine old country house. 

A little boy named Robert E. Lee 
was born there in January, 1807. 

With his white-haired negro nurse 

this boy loved to play under the great 

trees or romp on the hills, or to follow 

the cattle and listen to the sound of 

the river. 

119 



120 Children of History. 

He grew to be a great and dashing 
commander — brave as the bravest and 
true as the truest to what he believed 
right. 

With all his courage he was tender 
and gentle as a woman. 

In June, 1864, the people of Vir- 
ginia were trying to save their beloved 
city, Petersburg. Robert E. Lee was 
in command. 

"Go back! go back!' he cried to 
some soldiers who had gone too near 
danger for love of him, their com- 
mander. 

Shot and shell were falling and 



Children of History. 121 

bursting everywhere, when the great 
man caught sight of a young sparrow 
in the trampled grass. 

Without a thought for himself, he 
stepped forward into the enemy's fire, 
picked up the baby sparrow and set 
her tenderly in the home nest. 




ADMIRAL FARRAGUT 




ONE CHRISTMAS EVE. 

Have you ever heard how Admiral 
Farragut, when only a little boy, helped 
to shed glory on the flag? 

When he was only nine years old he 
was put to hard work upon a man-of- 
war. No plums nor candy, no marbles 
nor tops, no long, lazy summer days in 
the fields and woods, no sleigh rides 
nor Christmas trees for this boy. 



123 



124 Children of History. 

Every day he must do the same 
duties, see the same people, hear the 
same orders. 

One Christmas Eve his ship was 
sent to Newport, R. I. 

"Hark to the wind!' cried the 
sailors. "We can never reach the 
harbor." 

"Let go the anchor!' was the cry. 

The anchor was dropped into the 
sea, but it could not hold the wind- 
driven ship. 

" Let go another anchor." 

A second anchor was dropped, but 
the two together could not hold the ship. 



Children of History. 125 

"Let go another anchor!' 

Still another anchor was dropped, 
but the ship dragged the whole of them 
and went ashore. 

She tipped to one side. 

Her masts were blown away; her 
deck was covered with ice. One man 
was frozen. No one expected to live 
out the night. 

But the gale died away at last; the 
ship was righted and went on her way 
bearing the little boy who had been as 
brave as a man through all the danger, 
and who was one day to be a great 
naval hero. 



126 Children of History. 

Once our little hero's ship was filled 
with prisoners who planned to kill the 
commander and take the vessel for 
themselves. 

In the night the bov heard a soft 
footstep beside his hammock. 

He peered through the darkness. 
There stood one of the prisoners with 
a pistol in his hand! 

Little Farragut's heart beat very 
fast, but he lay quite still as if 
asleep. 

The armed man moved away to the 
next hammock. 

In a twinkling Farragut slipped from 



Children of History. 127 

his bed and hurried away to tell the 
captain. 

"Fire! fire!' cried the captain. 

In a moment all hands were on deck 
and knew what was the trouble. 

So startled were the prisoners at the 
cry of fire that they were easily caught 
and made safe. 




ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY 



128 



A VERMONT BOY. 

"I am here, sister, you need not be 
afraid," says little George Dewey, one 
bright summer day; and sister is helped 
over the slippery stones of the river. 

"You can bait the hooks," says the 
young fisherman, unwinding his lines, 
and sitting down on a mossy stone. 

The wind sighs around them, the 
leaves rustle above them, the river 
laughs in its own bright way at them, 
for not a fish bites. 

"Let's play Robinson Crusoe; you 

can be my man Friday," says the boy 

129 



130 Children of History. 

and away the children go up among 
the hills in search of a nice "desert 
island." 

The boy has such bright black eyes 
and such a brave high spirit, and does 
his work so well, that his papa often 
calls him "My little hero." 

One day in winter, when the snow 
lay deep on the Vermont hills around 
his home, this little hero made up his 
mind to play Hannibal. 

Sister would play, too; they wrapped 
themselves in their warmest cloaks and 
scrambled through the great drifts, 
playing they were climbing the Alps. 



Children of History. 131 

"I shall not go- back until I have 
climbed the highest hill," said the boy. 

Poor little sister went too, though 
she was ill for days afterward. 

"I shall not go back until I conquer," 
said Admiral George Dewey in the 
spring of 1898, when he sailed into 
Manila Bay. 

He kept on with his brave ships past 
fons, through channels, over torpedoes, 
until he conquered. 

Then he, who once was papa's " Little 
Hero," became a real hero whom every 
one was delighted to see or read about. 



THE PLYMOUTH CHILDREN. 

The First Thanksgiving. 
(In Plymouth, 1621.) 

"Will the corn come up? God will 
help us," said the Plymouth people 
hopefully at planting time. 

"Will the corn grow? God will 
help us," again said the Plymouth 
people when dry weather came. 

And God did help them. Showers 

and sunshine came to bless the corn 

13 2 



Children of History. 133 

till it stood full and ripe in the autumn 
sunshine. 

"Thank God! Thank God!' said 
the Pilgrims. "We will rejoice to- 
gether over our stores of corn; we will 
have a feast." 

Then such busy times as there were! 
The men went into the woods to kill 
deer and turkeys. 

The women (only four of them with 
one servant and a few young girls) 
began the cooking. 

There would be one hundred and 
twenty men, ninety of them Indians, 
and a few women and children to sit 



134 Children of History. 

down to the feast. And the feast 
would last three days! 

How the children's eyes danced with 

joy! 

They had been half starved or made 
ill by poor food. They had been lost 
in the dark woods ; they had met wolves 
that "sat on their tails and grinned at 
them." 

But now they were to have a real 
feast ! 

"The feast begins to-day," cried the 
children, watching the sun peep over 
the tree tops and down upon the queer 
little block house with its few cannon. 



Children of History. 135 

The women hurried about in their 
snowy caps and kerchiefs. The men 
wore their very best buff breeches and 
waistcoats. The Indians stalked about 
in their gayest paint and feathers. 

What a sight it was to see the 
goodies! 

There were rows of pumpkin pies 
and loaves of brown bread ; there were 
golden corn cakes and mugs of beer; 
there were wild grapes and dried 
plums; there were turkeys and deer 
roasting before the great fires. 

After dinner there were games of 
running and jumping, and a game 



136 Children of History. 

called stool ball, a kind of croquet in 
which the balls were driven between 
the legs of stools instead of under 
wickets. 

In those times Christmas trees and 
Santa Claus were looked upon as 
wicked. In fact, the Puritans were 
always very strict with their children. 

So you will not wonder that these 
little people remembered their first 
harvest feast for many, many weeks 
and months. 



THE FIRST FAST DAY. 

(In the year 1622.) 

In the next summer sad days came 
to the Plymouth children. 

There was very little to eat. The 
corn planted in April dried before it 
was three inches high. The beans, 
planted soon after, dried until they 
looked as though they had been burned 
with fire. 

News came that a ship bearing 
friends and food had gone down in the 
sea. 

•3" 



138 Children of History. 

"God must be angry with us!' said 
the Plymouth people. 

"We will have a day of fasting," 
said the governor. 

All work was stopped, all the people 
met and knelt under a sky so blue it 
seemed as though it could never rain 
again. 

Then a cloud came, another and 
another, then the rain. 

For fourteen days there were tender 
showers which coaxed the dried corn 
and beans into growing again. 

Then news came that the ship was 
not lost after all. 



Children of History. 139 

"Joy! joy!' cried the people; "we 

must have a thanksgiving day for this," 
and they did, though it was mid- 
summer. 

But there was another real jolly day 
for these little folks; that was training 
day, when the soldiers drilled, and there 
were guns and cannon firing from 
morning till night and a great dinner 
in tents. 

It was as much like Fourth of July 
as a day could be. 



THE COLONIAL CHILDREN'S 

FIRST REAL FOURTH 

OF JULY. 

It was July 4, 1777, just one year 
from the Declaration of Independence. 

There was great joy in Philadel- 
phia. The boys and girls were wide 
awake and eager to see what would be 
done. 

About noon all the armed ships in 
the river were drawn up before the city 
and the fun began. 

Both city and ships were gay with 
flags. 

At one o'clock, with such a boom as 

140 



Children of History. 141 

these quiet little folks had never before 
heard, thirteen cannon were fired from 
thirteen ships in honor of the thirteen 
United States. 

In the afternoon there was a dinner 
and bonfires and ringing of bells. 

When evening came the city was 
lighted from one end to the other. 

Then the fireworks began. Thir- 
teen rockets were sent up first, and 
many times thirteen shouts went up 
after them, all in honor of the thirteen 
United States. 

"Wish it was Fourth of July every 
day!" said the little folks when the fun 
was over. 



ABOUT THE FLAG 



When the world was but a few 
thousand years old, which you know 
is young for a world, it had only a 
few tribes of people upon it. 

"We must have some sign for each 
tribe," said the people. So each tribe 
carried a different banner or flag of 
some sort. 

The tribes grew to be nations. 

Each nation said, "We must have a 
flag." 



142 



Children of History. 143 

Words, you know-, stand for thoughts. 
In the same way each flag stands for 
its own nation. 

The very first flags were — what do 
you think? Just rushes cut from the 
river side! 

See the flag which is the sign of the 
United States. 

Its red stands for courage. 

Its white stands for purity. 

Its blue stands for truth. 

What do other nations think when 
they look at our flag? W T e hope they 
think this: 

"America is a brave, true nation 



144 



Cliildrcn of History. 



because its people are brave and 
true.'' 

Who of us could do wrong with our 
eyes on the grand old stars and stripes? 

Every kind thought or word or deed 
of ours is an honor not only to our- 
selves, but to our banner — and our 
country. 





MORE ABOUT THE FLAG 



The first flag to unroll its folds to 
the airs of our country was the Spanish 
flag which Columbus carried when he 
landed at San Salvador. 

The Piigrims who came over in the 
"Mayflower' sailed under a white flag 
with a red cross in it. 



HS 



146 Children of History. 

This was one of the flags of England 
at that time. 

When Henrich Hudson found the 
beautiful Hudson River he set up a 
flag, which was the flag of his country 
(Holland) at that time. 

Wherever the French people went 
they set up the French flag. 

So you see there were all sorts of 
flags flying in our country in its first 
days. 

By and by, people in our country 
began to dislike so many flags. 

"Let us have a flag of our own; we 
will be independent," said our people, 



Children of History 



147 



How shall our flag be made? The 
wisest men in our country thought 
about the question. 





THE SOUTH CAROLINA FLAG. 



PINE TREE FLAG 



They made all sorts of flags; blue 
flags, white flags, red flags, yellow flags; 
flags with stripes, flags with bars, flags 
with trees, flags with snakes, flags with 



148 Children of History. 

anchors, flags with the crescent moon 
on them. 

But none of these pleased the people 
long. 

At last George Washington named 
three men — one of these men was 
Benjamin Franklin' — to design a flag. 

The three men went to Cambridge, 
Mass., where Washington then was, so 
that they could talk with him about it. 

There they met a nice old gentleman, 
whose name no one seems to remember, 
who, it is said, gave them some wise 
hints. 

The new flag was made with thirteen 



Children of History. 



1 49 



stripes, one stripe for each colony 
with blue and white crosses in the 



corner. 





By and by, English rule became very 
hard to bear. 

"We will be a country by ourselves; 
we will have a fla^ all our own, with 



no king's cross i 



n the corner!' cried 
our people. 

Then it was that our flag with its 
stars was born. 



KO 



Children of History. 



"We will die to save our country 
and flag from injustice," said our 
people. 

And they say it this day and mean 
it, too. 




Children of History. 



I5i 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 




m= 



=zS 




1. Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's ear - ly light, What so 

2. On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the 

3. Oh, thus be it ev - er, when free-men shall stand Be 




proud - ly we hail' d at the twilight's last gleaming, Whose broad 
foe's haughty host in dread si-lence re - pos - es,What is 
tween their loved home and foul war's des - o - la - tion, Blest with 



m 



m 



f 



t: 



i 




1 — tv 



stripes and bright stars thro' the per - il 
that which the breeze o'er the tow - er 
vie - fry and peace may the heav'n-res 
fi -•- 



3* 



m 



- ous fight, O'er the 

- ing steep, As it 
cued land Praise the 




m 



ram -parts we watch'd, were so gal - lant - ly streaming? And the 
fit - ful - ly blows, half con-ceals,half dis-clos-es? — Now it 
power that hath made and preserved us a na-tion, Then 



— (— 

Er 



3c 



t — 



t: 



3 



152 



Children of History. 



THE STAR-SP ANGLED BANKER. 






v 



rock-et's red glare, tlie bombs barst-ing in air, Gave 
catch - es the gleam of the morn-ing's first beam, In ful? 
con - quer we must, when our cause is so just, And 



9^ 



-i 



t 




proof thro' the night that our flag was still there; 
glo - ry re - fleet - ed, now shines on the stream! 
this be our mot - to — u In God is our trust;" 




Oh say,does the star-spangled ban-ner yet wave O'er the 
'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! oh, long may it wave O'er the 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in tri - uraph shall wave O'er the 



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